


Too Much To Ask

by Anythingkj



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Multiple OC's, angry shion, first person POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingkj/pseuds/Anythingkj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You think... you think I'm gonna..." He nearly wheezed, gasping for breath. It hurt, his laughing at me, when I was only trying to help. "You think, you think I'm gonna jump?" He asked, as though the mere thought was absurd. Then he grew serious, his voice low, though still slightly slurred,<br/>"I'm not a coward. I'm gonna live."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much To Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Because I started writing fanfic for Glee fandom, it always seems to me that every other fandom has a definite lack of song fics. So this is based on the song Too Much To Ask by Avril Lavigne. It is proof that I am incapable of writing happy things. I also have a hard time writing from Shion’s point of view, simply because my mindset is very similar to Nezumi’s, so Nezumi’s a lot easier to write for me. I think Shion comes off as a bit bitter, so I hope it’s okay :) This is not about suicide, by the way, though the first chapter kind of seems like it. It was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but my brain has other ideas. Sorry, this is horribly long.  
> ~Sami

 

_The angry boy a bit too insane_

_Icing over a secret pain_

_You know you don't belong_

_You're the first to fight_

_You're way too loud_

_You're the flash of light on a burial shroud_

_I know something's wrong_

(~Jumper, Third Eye Blind~)

I stood on the very edge of the bridge and looked down.

I made sure to glance around first, of course, because they’d assume I was getting ready to jump. I wasn’t; I wasn’t suicidal, but I loved the feeling of looking over the edge, down below, and having that sharp rush of fear surge through my body, leaving me shaking with adrenaline. It made me feel like I could do anything, like I was soaring through the air and I had nothing to lose.

I swallowed thickly and my vision blurred as I realized now I _did_ have nothing to lose. A sudden wave of dizziness hit me, and I nearly fell. I backed up, because if I really fell who knows how I’d land up? Sitting down on a nearby bench, I took a moment to close my eyes and take some deep breaths. I was _fine._ Everything was _fine._ It would work out, I knew it would.

When I opened my eyes, I thought I saw a dark figure on the other side of the bridge. No. There couldn't be anyone else here; I had made sure I was alone. There was no way...

But there it was again.  The figure moved quickly, and he seemed to be nervous, walking back and forth in almost exaggerated movements. My curiosity got the best of me and I began to creep over to the other side of the bridge as quietly as possible. With a better view I could tell it was a boy, a little older than me, with a determined look on his face. He paused in his near-frantic pacing and got close to the edge of the bridge, closer than I ever had (which meant his feet were partly over the edge), and looked down. It made me uncomfortable; he didn't seem like me, glancing over for the thrill of it... he looked ready to jump.

I wanted to call out, but if I startled him he would most likely fall over. I slammed my eyes shut, not wanting to see it, but knowing I couldn't do anything... but was it better to stand there, knowing what he was about to do, or accidentally cause him to fall over and have someone else's death on my conscience for the rest of my life?

"Hey." The voice was gruff, but slurred, and I pried my eyes open. The boy had stepped a bit closer toward me and was staring at me intently. I could now tell that he was definitely intoxicated, his eyes unfocused and a slight smirk playing at his lips. There was no denying he was attractive, though he was a mess. His long, straight, dark hair, pulled into a high ponytail, was frizzy and looked unkempt and in need of a wash. His clothes were wrinkled and stained. His grey eyes didn't match the smirk directed at me; they seemed dull and tired.

But he smiled. It bothered me, to some extent. He seemed to notice me staring at him, analyzing him, and the smile that said I-know-something-that-you-don't grew.

"What're you doing here?" He asked me, cocking his head slightly. I cast my red eyes down to the snowy ground and watched the smoke-like puffs of breath that came from my mouth when I exhaled. I was a terrible liar, even to strangers. I avoided the question, instead asking one of my own.

"Aren't you cold?" It was a valid question; he wore nothing but a long-sleeved light-blue tee-shirt and black dress pants in the cold January weather, which were filthy.

"'m fine." He replied, almost to himself. "Don't you hate the New Year?" This question took me by surprise as I'd nearly forgotten the date. Plus, everyone seemed to like the New Year. Just hours earlier I'd watched many people's different fireworks burst in the air. You could practically see all around from the bridge. It was one of the reasons I loved it.

I shrugged. I didn't particularly like the New Year, but I didn't hate it. I could fake a smile through the parties and come up here. No one wanted to be alone at New Year's. No one wanted to be sober on New Year's, either.

"New Year's is fun." I told him. "Don't you like fireworks?" The boy, who I now realized was slightly taller than me, scoffed and turned back around, staring raptly at the horizon. He took a step back toward the edge.

"Don't you like fireworks?" He mimicked, voice high and mocking.

"Don't do that." I blurted out, then clamped my teeth down on my tongue to shut myself up. The boy turned his head back at me and laughed harshly, vindictively.

Well. At least he found the situation amusing.

"You think... you think I'm gonna..." He nearly wheezed, gasping for breath. It hurt, his laughing at me, when I was only trying to help. "You think, you think I'm gonna jump?" He asked, as though the mere thought was absurd. Then he grew serious, his voice low, though still slightly slurred,

"I'm not a coward. I'm gonna live."

And he took off, walking briskly back to civilization, away from the edge (thankfully), away from the bridge, and away from me.


End file.
